


Pillow Talk

by XAnima_Bellax



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Derek and Laura are Twins, Derek and Scott are Brothers, F/M, Jackson and Stiles are Roomates, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Oral Sex, Past Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Prank Wars, Rimming, Scott and Jackson are Friends Somehow, Sexual Content, Top Jackson Whittemore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 23:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3788512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XAnima_Bellax/pseuds/XAnima_Bellax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles really could blame this entire situation on his 6 a.m. class. He doubts anyone will believe him, but it was never his intention to start an all out prank war involving what feels like majority of the campus.  Honest.  But he's never been one to back down from a fight and Jackson honestly doesn't have a clue what he's in for. </p><p>Or the one in which Stiles inadvertently starts a prank war with Jackson over a pillow and maybe falls in love with him in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! It's been a while, but now I'm back.
> 
> I honestly started this off with the intentions of making it Sterek, but Stackson kind of happened instead?  
> IDK why, but it seems I've momentarily forgotten how to make my characters fall in love with the right person. And as much as I love Sterek (it really is my OTP) I seem to keep coming back to Stackson when I write. Anyway just be glad that this is Stackson with Sterek bromance and not the Steter that it could have been (because I have seriously fallen in love with the pairing.) 
> 
> Anyway...this is unbeta'd so....

Of all the great things Stiles expected to experience at college, six a.m. classes were not one of them.  It’s unethical to make someone know what the sky looks like at six in the morning, let alone string together words to form coherent sentences.  And his roommate, the utter asshole that he is –what kind of name is _Jackson_ even? It sounds like the name of someone suffering from chronic douchebag-itis – is still nestled under his covers, his stupid face fixed in a smug grin even in his sleep, as if he somehow anticipated Stiles having to drag himself out of bed at the ass crack of dawn.  Stiles has never been a morning person; it goes against every fiber of his being to be anything other than grim before noon and a shit-ton of caffeine.  Not for the first time since he’s met his advisor, he curses the bright-eyed maniac who so enthusiastically enlisted him in Western Civilization at piss-o-clock in the morning.  Stiles doesn't even like history, the very thought of sitting through a lecture hall for three hours is enough to make blood leak out of his eyes.  He wonders idly if it will be a hassle to drop his class and find another one at a decent time to sit through as an elective.

 

“Hey asshole,” Jackson mumbles from under a heap of blankets. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

 

And maybe Stiles’ brain doesn't understand how to complain mentally instead of mumbling hotly under his breath this early in the morning.  A half-assed apology is on the tip of his tongue when he realizes exactly who it is that’s he’s about to be courteous to.  Jackson is a pain and Stiles doesn't care how well his dad instilled good manners into him, he’s _never_ going to be anything other than a dick to Jackson.  He’d made his mind up about that the first time he saw his stupid face.  So instead he sends his sharpest, coldest glare in the general direction of Jackson’s face and tries to empty all of his pent-up frustration into his words.

 

“Bite me, dick-face.”

 

So it’s not his best material, sue him.  Stiles can’t actually be bothered to come up with biting sarcasm and insults this early in the morning.  Also, he may need all of his brain cells to focus on standing up straight-ish and finding clothes that don’t make him look like he lives under an overpass.  There will be plenty of time for him to attempt to make Jackson cry like a bitch.

 

Still, Stiles is nothing if not a petty pain in the ass – it’s a trait that he takes pride in, especially when the person on the receiving end is a bigger asshole than himself – and he’s not going to waste an opportunity to make Jackson seethe. He makes a point of being unnecessarily loud, slamming draws and “ _accidentally_ ” knocking things over.  He even manages to pull his socks on noisily, an achievement that he takes pride in, all the time continuing to spew curses and insults.  Jackson shoots up sharply, throwing his pillow hard at Stiles’ face. Stiles ducks out the way in the nick of time, the pillow _just_ missing him before falling to the floor.

 

“I swear to God, I will murder you and hide the body,” Jackson spits.  His blonde hair is wild and tousled, sticking up in all directions.  Stiles, even though he’s pretty much wished violent diarrhea on Jackson since day one, has to admit that Jackson is undeniably sexy that way.  _Oh if only he wasn't such a raging douchebag…_

 

“Relax, asshole. I’m on my way out anyway,” Stiles says, bending to pick up the discarded pillow. “Besides, we both know that you’re not smart enough to get away with murder.”

 

Just to spite Jackson he carries the pillow out with him, stuffing it in the closest trash can he can find.  Once he’s satisfied with his, admittedly pathetic, attempt of revenge, he slumps off to Volker Hall for three hours of ear torture.

 

:: :: :: :: :: ::

 

Stiles really doesn't think things through.  Call it a character flaw. He is surprisingly brash for a cop’s kid, never stopping to consider all his options and weigh the circumstances behind each.  Up until now it had always been a part of himself he accepted with a shrug, despite how much it aggravated his dad.  Yeah, he really should have looked more into fixing that part of himself before he started college. 

 

Maybe then he wouldn’t have inadvertently started a prank war with his dick of a roommate.

 

Honestly, Jackson should lighten up.  One tiny pillow on the grand scheme of things isn’t even that big of a deal, especially considering how Jackson boasts his money while driving around a shiny Porsche.

 

Apparently it is a big deal, if his mattress is anything to go by.

 

Stiles arrives back to the room fully expecting to fall face first into a cocoon of soft covers and cool sheets.  Instead he finds himself falling through the frame of the bed to crash into the floor.  He’s so shocked, that for a long while he just lays there, unsure of what went wrong.  When he hauls himself up, Jackson is pointedly not looking at him, instead focusing on his laptop.  Stiles stares at him for a short decade, studying his face, but Jackson never looks up from his screen.  The only thing that gives him away is the tiny quirk of his lips and Stiles is almost pleased that Jackson isn’t as one-dimensional as he’d originally pegged him.

 

Mostly he’s annoyed.

 

Really, all of this over one stupid pillow?  It isn’t like Stiles doesn’t appreciate a good prank war; his teachers didn’t call him the spawn of Loki for nothing.  But still…

 

_A pillow?_

 

“Are you alright, Stilinski?” Jackson questions, peering over the edge of his screen to stare innocently at Stiles. “It looks like you may have gotten a faulty mattress.”

 

Stiles blinks at him, mind slowly starting to process that this is, indeed, all because of one singular pillow.  Jackson is still looking at him, the tiny quirk of his lips just a fraction wider.  Stiles gives his most devious smile, the one his father compared to that of the Grinch, letting it eat his face slowly. “You have absolutely no idea what you’ve just done.”

 

Jackson’s face blanches a bit, but he’s quick to fix it back to his default mask of slight indifference and complete smugness.

 

“Whatever, dude,” he says, turning his attention back to his laptop.

 

Oh it is on.  It is _soooooo_ on.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to add another chapter just to make sure I've gotten the creative juices flowing in the right way. This one is from Jackson's point of view, the first time I've ever written from his perspective. I hope it isn't too OOC.
> 
> Also, I'm taking suggestions about good pranks, so if you know of one, leave a comment.

Jackson, despite popular belief, doesn’t actually seek out new people to hate.  Really they just seem to flock to him, annoying gnats that swarm around his general space so maddeningly that he swaps them out the air and crushes them so they won’t return.  It’s always been that way, him pushing people away until only he, himself, remains.  It isn’t, no matter what Lydia thinks, a defense mechanism.  He just has a short fuse and people tend to wear what little patience he does have down until he inevitably snaps.  Even with that being the case, he still doesn’t tend to hate people unless they really push him past the breaking point.

That being said, he doesn’t actively hate the Stilinski kid that he’s gotten stuck with as a roommate.  Sure he’s annoyingly loud and unreasonably stupid when it comes to respecting boundaries, but all in all, he’s not so much of a bad guy.  Jackson doesn’t like him, not even close, but he doesn’t actually want to cause Stiles bodily harm…unless he’d be into that.

And this is still new, being attracted to guys.  For so long all he really knew was Lydia, with her soft curves and long, strawberry blonde hair.  It’s still a little disconcerting to look at a guy and thinking, _I want him._ He thought it’d be easier in college, away from the prying eyes of his peers and the disapproving looks from his parents.  Instead he’s finding that it’s harder.  Even more so when he gets the single most infuriating person in the world as a roommate.

And Jackson _really_ wants to fuck him.

So maybe that’s why he’s more than a little rude to Stiles when he throws himself – literally throws himself as though he’s falling into the room instead of walking; after Jackson is around him for more than thirty minutes he realizes that his theory probably isn’t that off-base – into their shared room.  But honestly he deserves a little leeway.  Because holy shit, does Jackson want the other boy, more so than he’s ever remembered wanting another person.

Stiles is tall and thin, borderline lanky, with long fingers and bright, doe eyes the color of expensive whiskey.  He’s got a head full of unkempt hair and a smattering of moles and marks that Jackson wants to chase.  And his mouth.  _God_ that mouth, wide and kissable and so obviously made for sucking cock.  It’s a wonder that Jackson doesn’t just jump him in the middle of the room.

Then, of course, Stiles opens his mouth and everything comes crashing back down to reality and Jackson is left standing in the midst of a shitload of personal problems he does _not_ want to sift through at the moment.  And so he switches to his default setting, pushing Stiles away from himself –both literally and metaphorically– and makes sure that any chance of him and Stiles being anything other than tolerable towards each other is impossible.

Also, maybe he insults him, calls him a peasant.

Either way, Stiles calls him a superficial asshole and shrinks away to his side of the room to leave Jackson to sulk.  It’s all so unbelievably perfect that Jackson actually thinks that maybe he’d be able to survive the school year without pinning Stiles to whichever surface is available.

How very stupid of him.

He learns the hard way that one cannot simply ignore Stiles Stilinski.  He also learns that Stiles isn’t above childish behavior…like kidnapping his $400 pillow. 

And that’s how it starts, with a pillow and Jackson’s embarrassing inability to deal with his feelings.

:: :: :: :: :: ::

Of course Jackson knew that Stiles wouldn’t just let the prank ride.  Stiles seems like the type of person that has a very hard time controlling his impulses and is constantly looking for new ways to get rid of the pent-up energy that seems to swirl within him – Jackson has a very good idea of how to deplete all that glorious stamina, but it’s counterproductive to what he’s trying to achieve by not slamming Stiles against the wall and sucking his mark on his skin.

 Stiles doesn’t disappoint.

 Jackson barely has time to even think about how Stiles might retaliate – laughing his way towards the parking lot with his hometown friends, Scott and Danny – before he’s staring at a mess of saran wrap instead of his car.

The little shit has covered his entire car with Saran wrap.

“Dude,” Scott says, mouth dropped open in awe. “It looks like your car got caught in a spider web.”

“That’s one big ass spider,” Danny whistles, scratching at the back of his head.

“I’m going to kill him,” Jackson seethes, unable to do anything other than stand and stare at the atrocity that is now his precious Porsche.  A little voice that sounds suspiciously like a gleeful Stiles whispers to him that this is what he gets for bragging about his car to Stiles and then starting a prank war. “I’m going to _actually_ kill him.”

“Or you could just get even,” Danny suggests.  “Isn’t the whole point of a prank war to maim and kill without actually having to maim and kill?”

“How the hell do you come back from something like that though?” Scott inquiries.

“That’s what you two idiots are going to help me figure out.” Jackson finally gets enough of his wits back to make his way towards his baby and pulls out the Swiss army knife he keeps in his pocket.  “But first we’re going to unwrap my car.”

“Where does it even end?” Scott circles around the car slowly, the look of complete and total astonishment never leaving his face. Danny _hmm_ ’s in agreement. Jackson ignores them both in favor of cutting a careful line through the first few layers of plastic.  Scott and Danny eventually follow his lead, both of them giving Jackson uneasy glances as if to ensure that he hasn’t run off to actually murder his roommate.

Jackson spend the entire process trying not to think about how if he’d just given in and tried to seduce Stiles, he wouldn’t be unwrapping his car like a Christmas gift.

:: :: :: :: :: ::

Stiles isn’t actually in their room when Jackson gets back.  He isn’t sure whether he’s happy about that or not.  He decides to go with grateful, content to use this time to plot his revenge against Stiles without having to look over his shoulder to make sure the other boy wasn’t snooping.  Scott is looking around the room as if he’s afraid that something terrifying might jump out and devour him whole.  Danny just looks impossibly bored with the entire situation.

“Why are you even doing this?” Danny questions, watching Jackson pace back and forth. “This guy obviously doesn’t care about boundaries if he’s willing to go after your car so boldly.  Shouldn’t you just wave the white flag?”

“And let that little shit win?” Jackson snorts at the fact that Danny could even think that’s a possibility.  Besides wasn’t it Danny who was suggesting that Jackson continue the prank war in the parking lot?

“I don’t know about this.” Scott looks particularly unsettled and any other time Jackson would listen to him.  Scott’s always been right about certain situations, his gut keeping the three of them out of so much trouble back in high school.  But his pride is on the line right now and despite what Scott thinks or feels, Jackson isn’t going to go down without a fight.

“Why are _you_ so paranoid?” he questions, rolling his eyes at the nervous teen. “You’re not the one who has to live with him.  And even if he did try to retaliate, it’s three against one.”

“I know I’ve never met him, but he seems like the type of guy that doesn’t play fair.”  Scott has an excellent point, but Jackson is beyond the point of reasoning now.

“Just help me come up with something!” Danny looks back and forth between the two of them before settling his gaze on Jackson.  He cocks his head in a move that’s so classically Scott that Jackson has to wonder if spending so much time together has started to turn them all into the same person.

“Is this some kind of twisted foreplay?” the darker boy questions and Jackson chokes.  He flushes bright red and glares at Danny.

“If the next thing out of your mouth isn’t an idea on how to put this idiot in his place, I’m going to personally dismember you.”

Danny sighs rests his head in his hand. “You wouldn’t happen to know where he keeps his laptop, would you?”

Jackson nearly breaks his neck getting it, not believing his luck when he finds it tucked under the pathetic remains of Stiles’ bedframe.  Stilinski fucked with the wrong person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to comment with your thoughts and suggestions below.

**Author's Note:**

> What'd you think? Hopefully it's not too short.
> 
> I hope that those of you who may be reading my work for the second or third time are able to see a change in my writing. If you do see it, I hope it's for the best. 
> 
> Leave a comment.


End file.
